Waiting for Each Other
by hiyoris-scarf
Summary: A short series of Edwin moments set during the two years between the Elrics' return and when they leave to continue their alchemy/alkahestry studies.
1. Aerugan Red

Winry wasn't altogether sure how she wound up traipsing alongside her silent companion down the hill from Rockbell Automail Repair and Prosthetics. She only knew it had to do with a very cryptic Alphonse hurrying his older brother into his best—and only—suit, while Granny Pinako all but forced Winry into her nicest dress, twisted her hair into a simple knot, and responded with nothing but laughter and surprising agility when her granddaughter made any escape attempts.

Now, Winry smoothed the soft fabric of the white dress against her stomach, appreciating its almost liquid sheen in the light of the fierce sunset. She didn't have the opportunity to dress up much around Resembool, and she wasn't quite sure how to wear something that wasn't greasy and blackened. Glancing sideways at Edward, she almost laughed at how uncomfortable he looked in the modest dress suit. Al had strong-armed his brother into making the purchase, with the half-hearted yet semi-plausible argument that he might need it someday for a military event. That was a month ago, and still Ed refused to try on the thing, even for fitting purposes. Until now, that is. Winry wondered what martial arts skills Al had to use to get his relentlessly informal brother into a cravat.

Ed cleared his throat loudly, and as Winry turned her head to look at him, she noted with a suppressed giggle that his discomfort was rapidly escalating into panic. His nose and ears were roughly the color of the sinking orb in the sky, and he clutched his arms so stiffly to his sides that Winry thought maybe _both_ of them were made of automail and were in need of a good oiling. Evidently the prolonged silence of their walk was deeply unsettling to him.

"Those two, huh?" was his starting comment.

"Yeah," Winry followed. "I've never seen Granny exert that much sheer manpower. It was kinda scary being the one under her wrench—or—hands, I guess."

"Al said if I didn't put on the suit he'd kick my ass into the next Promised Day. Of course, he was grinning ear-to-ear, so there were some mixed signals." Ed searched around for pockets in the unfamiliar jacket, and shoved his hands into them. "He also said he and Granny agreed that the house was way too crowded with all four of us hanging out there all the time. And since _I'm_ apparently the most trouble, I was the first to get hauled out the door." He scowled, but didn't attempt to refute the charge. "I don't know why they kicked you out too, though. You're useful, apparently."

"If you count running half the business 'useful,' then that's the truth," Winry sniffed. She didn't mention that Granny Pinako had sat her down yesterday and showed her half a dozen automail parts that were malfunctioning spectacularly after Winry's "thorough" maintenance on them. The embarrassed mechanic was forced to confront her increasing distraction, and the subsequent effect on her usually flawless metal creations. Barring a brain hemorrhage or loss of limb, the only possible cause of the sharp deterioration in Winry's work was the presence of the former alchemist walking right next to her.

Ed ignored her tiff, gazing toward the growing lights of downtown. "What the hell are we supposed to do in town? And dressed like this?" Ed swatted impatiently at the intricacies of his attire. At the same time, his stomach growled audibly.

"Well, you seem to have already made the suggestion, but we could always eat somewhere," Winry teased him. "There's actually a new restaurant here that's almost on a par with the some of the nice places in Central. It opened a few months ago, but I haven't gotten to visit it yet. Want to try there?" Ed made a nondescript noise in his throat, which Winry interpreted as assent.

* * *

The two walked on as the dirt path opened into the wider streets of the town proper. Resembool nights were never boisterous, but there was a steady hum of activity tonight from the shops, bars, and cafes. Golden lamplight replaced the afternoon's keen orange brilliance as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, and the gentle glow reflected softly off the highlights of Winry's hair and her ivory dress. Ed felt his throat dry up as he looked down at her, before swallowing hard and tersely tapping her shoulder.

"Is that it?" He motioned towards a building quite a ways down the street, from which emanated the strains of music and the sound of a healthy crowd.

"That's the one. It's called The Golden Mockingbird. Sounds a lot more posh than what we're used to around here, doesn't it?" Winry grinned up at him, and he wondered if his heart might actually stop beating. Ed didn't know if he should be cursing or kissing Al for his harebrained suggestion.

* * *

 _"Alphonse, if you say that word one more time, I will transmute your idiotic mug back into the Gate of Truth and see how you enjoy Father's company for the rest of eternity."_

 _"What word is that, Ed? Oh, is it "date?"_ _Is that the one you're referring to? Oh and by the way, you're going to have to perform a significant miracle to be able to transmute humans—or anything—again, which I look forward to witnessing."_

 _"Shut the hell up! Dammit, she's just downstairs! And you're practically yelling!"_

 _"I hate to break it to you, but I'm not the one here who's shouting."_

 _Ed slowly unclenched his fist, which he had half-fantasized closing around his brother's throat, and took a deep, steadying breath._

 _"Al, it isn't in the cards. It would be beyond weird. We're practically as close as siblings—and what's more, I'm pretty sure that's the only way she's ever going to think of me."_

 _"You really can be thick sometimes, Ed." Alphonse sighed dramatically, shifting his still fragile form as he rested on the couch. Ed immediately reverted into protective older brother mode, offering another pillow, which Al gently pushed away. "Being in a room with the two of you is like waiting for a bomb to go off. I barely prevented Granny from forcing you and Winry into a broom closet and locking it so you could sort through your issues. Although to be honest, I'm not sure she thought that plan through…" Al waggled his eyebrows at his visibly embarrassed brother._

 _Ed got up and started stalking the room like a caged animal. "Well, what am I going to do? It'll just freak her out if I tell her any of this, and I don't want to make things more awkward than they already are." He rubbed his temples vigorously, looking so distraught and at the same time so comical that Al chuckled, which earned him a stony glare._

 _The smiling boy addressed Ed's doubts: "I don't think you're giving Winry enough credit, brother. But I do have an idea that will remove you from suspicion. That is, as long as you're willing to put the word "date" back into your limited vocabulary."_

 _Edward groaned. This was going to be humiliating, and probably more terrifying than any homunculus he'd ever faced off with. But it was certainly better than living in limbo._

* * *

Ed remembered two weeks ago when Al proposed that he and Pinako provide cover for Ed and Winry to spend some time together—time that didn't involve Ed's boxer-clad self under the girl's critical eye in the automail workshop. There hadn't been an opportunity to put the plan in motion, especially since one of its major players still needed a little help getting up and down the stairs. However, the last few days had seen Alphonse moving around the house entirely under his own power. Ed was beyond relieved to see his brother back in his healthy human body, but he wished—oh, he _wished—_ that Al had at least warned him beforehand instead of catching him off guard and flinging him out the front door to go entertain Winry.

 _That, and some choice details of the plan were never under discussion,_ he thought as he frowned down at the suit again.

"Here we are." Winry took his elbow and guided him into the restaurant while he was still wrapped up in his own distractions. Ed peered nervously around the establishment, noting with relief that it was nothing like some of the joints in Central. The dark wood and roaring fireplace gave the place a friendly atmosphere, and even though many of the patrons were dressed formally, Ed and Winry didn't stand out as being too casual. In fact, Ed noticed, Winry looked a damn sight better than anyone else in the room.

They were seated quickly, and given menus with a picture of a gilded bird on the front. With water tumblers in front of them, the two talked about familiar, comfortable topics before deciding on what to order. Al's recovery, Granny's health, and Winry's friends in Rush Valley figured largely in their talk. Ed finally began to relax, and even to think that Al had a point. If this was what going on a date with Winry was like, than it really wasn't so bad. After about five minutes, a waiter approached their table.

* * *

Winry was in the middle of telling Ed about Paninya's latest letter when the waiter reached their table. After wishing them a good evening and listing the specials, he asked if they'd care to see the wine list. Winry quickly responded in the affirmative, even as she saw Ed trying to shake his head at her from across the table. She selected a vintage from Aerugo, and the waiter took the list from her with a smile, saying he'd be back with a bottle shortly.

Winry glanced across the table, nearly spitting out her water when she saw her dinner companion staring at her with a slack jaw. "I haven't seen any flies in here yet, but you might want to close that up before one finds its way in," she warned him playfully. She heard his teeth click as they snapped together.

"Winry, what the hell? Aren't they—don't they—aren't you _sixteen_?"

She shrugged. "Ed, it's not a big deal. This isn't a big city like Central or East; no one's upset when a couple sixteen-year-olds drink responsibly. They just don't care enough to enforce a rule like that."

Ed was still sputtering a bit, and when the bottle itself arrived at their table he turned positively crimson.

 _God, that's adorable,_ was Winry's unbidden thought. She shook her head to clear the nonsense out as the server poured glasses for both of them, leaving the bottle at the table. He stayed long enough to take both their orders, and then departed.

Ed fell silent, apparently adjusting himself to the study of his full glass. Winry picked hers up and gazed through the deeply tinted liquid. It was a bright, inflamed red in the well-lit room, and Winry's mind was suddenly jarred with images of the hate-filled eyes of an Ishvalan monk. She lifted the glass and took a generous sip, hoping the alcohol would flush out that singularly unpleasant memory.

Winry wasn't plagued with nightmares like she was before the Promised Day. No more waking up shaking so hard her bones ached, trying to force her loved ones' names out through chattering teeth. No more midnight trips to the bathroom to rinse her sweat-soaked hair, splashing the freezing water on her skin to reassure herself that the hideous visions were nothing more than her overactive imagination. Ever since the boys—her boys—had come back with only one missing limb between the two of them, Winry's nights had been quiet. Now it was her own battles that haunted her, not those of others. And the most wrenching memory of her young life, staring down the barrel of her own revenge, was still capable of stopping her in her tracks.

She looked at the young man across from her, who was currently tipping his wineglass back and forth as if trying to visually assess its chemical makeup. Winry felt her face break into a smile as she considered that Ed, immature and short-tempered as he was, was the only reason her life hadn't fallen apart in that critical moment. And at the present, she didn't think it was the wine causing giddy warmth to bloom in her chest.

* * *

Ed sloshed his glass around, still not taking a sip until he was sure the stuff wouldn't backfire on him. Winry had already drunk some, but she was related to Pinako, so Ed banked a lot on her natural tolerance. Finally, he took a ginger swallow, expecting a harsh burn similar to the one accompanying Havoc's concoction of choice. The lieutenant had forced a mouthful on Ed at their last meeting, saying that nothing was sure to inspire feats of courage and manliness like one swig of Drachman vodka. Ed thought it far more likely to induce projectile vomiting, feats of courage notwithstanding.

Instead, he tasted the South. The bitterness left his mouth with an aftertaste of berries and cinnamon. Not so bad. Ed glimpsed Winry over the rim of his glass as he put it down. She was watching him with warm eyes and the corners of her mouth gently turned up. His stomach dropped a little, and he felt blood rush to his ears as he nearly choked on that one sip. But he really liked that expression on her face, even when it didn't happen to be directed at him. He'd seen worry etched on her forehead—usually related to his dangerous exploits—and it soothed his guilt to see her relaxed, carefree smile again.

"Not what you expected, is it?" she inquired.

It took a second for him to figure out she was talking about the wine. "Oh, no, I guess not. At least it's better than that swill Havoc raves over." He grimaced. "And it's a hell of a lot nicer than milk."

Winry's laughter rang out, and even though Ed made a face, he was happy he could still amuse her. At least this "date" wasn't going to be full of awkward silences.

Their food arrived soon afterwards, and the wine bottle quickly emptied as the two dug in and enjoyed a dinner conversation that didn't veer towards any uncomfortable topics. When she wasn't chucking wrenches at him, lamenting the state of his prosthetics, or berating him for his dangerous missions, Ed and Winry got along well— _very_ well. That is, until Ed unfailingly shoved his automail foot into his mouth. He had a chronic habit of blurting out something insensitive, painful, or insulting just when he and Winry had finally hit their stride. Which was why tonight, he was carefully avoiding anything that could generate conflict.

 _The military._ That was Ed's concern. He was still technically a state alchemist, and he knew Winry was aware of that. He also knew that he was still the military's "dog," and his leave could be up at any time. Even though he no longer had the ability to transmute, Ed's knowledge of alchemical science was beyond many of the leading minds in the military, and he didn't chalk it up to them to give him up so easily. His limited freedom in Resembool was the last thing he wanted to bring up after everything was finally calming down.

So he stuck to safe territory, which was easy enough. Pretty soon (about halfway down the wine bottle), he found that conversation came second to body language anyway. He was almost agonizingly aware of Winry's hand, which had rested on the table during their talk and was creeping steadily towards him. Three-quarters down the bottle, he found the guts to cover her fingers with his own, and realized somewhere along the way that his sentence had stopped mid-syllable. He gave up trying to remember his train of thought when he looked into her eyes.

 _Either this drink is stronger than I thought, or she's somehow gotten ten times more beautiful since we sat down._

He was sitting so far on the edge of his seat he had to jam his heels into the floor to keep from falling, but he only wanted to get a little closer…maybe touch her cheek…and who knows after that, maybe…

Suddenly Winry pulled back, pressing herself against the back of her seat and inhaling sharply. Ed realized their lips had been inches away, and stifled an anguished noise. _So close_. What had he done wrong? Was it too fast? Maybe it wasn't good manners to try and kiss a girl halfway through your first date, _especially_ if that girl was your mechanic and was probably secreting a pocket-sized wrench with which to bash in your damn thick skull.

* * *

Winry tried to figure out exactly what had caused her to break the moment that very well might have turned into her first kiss. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something just felt…off. As nice as the restaurant was, she didn't want something so important—to her, at least—happening in front of everyone else in the building. She also had the bizarre sensation that Ed was trying a bit too hard to be nice. Her oldest friend and best customer couldn't talk for five minutes without hitting a nerve, and so far he had been all sensitivity during their dinner conversation.

Well, if she couldn't get him to be forthright with her, she'd just have to rely on the alcohol.

"Want to finish it off?" She tapped the neck of the wine bottle enticingly.

Ed appeared to still be shaking himself out a disappointed haze. Winry wondered exactly how stupid she'd been for missing such a prime opportunity.

 _No, I don't know what's up with my instincts, but this just wasn't right._

Nevertheless, she couldn't help glancing remorsefully at his rather too perfect—and currently agonized—features. _Be strong._

Ed's gaze shifted to the bottle, which still held a small amount of the ruby vintage. He hesitated, reached out and took the bottle, then skipped the pouring stage entirely and downed it in a gulp.

" _Ed!"_

Winry's shocked reprimand had no effect on Ed's composure. She swiveled her head rapidly to see if any of the waiters or diners had witnessed his impropriety. Luckily, no one looked scandalized, so she counted her blessings and settled for glaring at the shameless buffoon across the table.

"You better hope the bill comes fast, before you do something else to get us kicked out for indecency."

Ed, still unconcerned, grinned toothily at her and flagged down the nearest waiter.

A few minutes later, Ed and a still-mortified Winry returned to the main streets of Resembool and started walking towards the edge of town. The dusk had deepened greatly, and not even the lights of downtown could dim the effervescent wash of stars illuminating the countryside. Winry saw Ed's chin tip up as he stopped in the middle of the road to stare at the constellations. She halted alongside him.

"They're always this bright, huh?"

Winry didn't respond for a few seconds. She was hit with the realization that Edward, relentlessly driven on his tortured quest for so long, had been deprived of too many simple wonders. She didn't think the stars in Central ever looked this bright or this close. She snatched one of his hands out of his pocket and hurried him a little roughly down the street.

"Come on, I want to show you something."

She steered them out of town and up the path that led back to the Rockbells' house, but before the house itself came in sight she turned and started climbing the gentle grassy slope. She knew Ed had figured out where she was taking them—this was a favorite playground for them as children. The huge, lonely cliff-side tree might not have been a traditionally friendly place for three toddlers to play, but Alphonse, Edward, and Winry had always preferred its sturdy branches to the frail saplings near their homes.

The tree, silhouetted against the brilliance of moon and stars, almost looked like it was waiting for them. The neglected swing hung motionless in the heavy summer night, and Winry gingerly sat down on it, hoping the wood and rope would bear her weight. Ed flung himself onto the grass, entirely careless of his nice clothes. Winry grinned, imagining Al trying vigorously to scrub out the stains on his brother's only good suit.

"Hey, you're right. Up here they're a lot more…" Ed lifted his right hand to gesture vaguely at the shimmering sky. The stars, bright as they were in the midst of town, now cast a persistent silver glow that left no room for shadows. Winry could see every hair on Ed's outstretched arm, the dip of his throat, the strands of grass tangled in his hair. _I really should have kissed him back there._

"…Winry?"

The distracted girl jerked, and realized that Ed had asked her something.

"Oh, sorry. I guess the wine affected me more than I thought."

Ed snickered. "Guess the Rockbell tolerance gets watered down through the generations."

Winry growled and reached for her trusty wrench, then remembered her dress didn't have a single pocket, much less one big enough for her weapon of choice. "Stop being rude, and just ask your question again, won't you?"

Ed flipped over onto his stomach and obliged. "Do you think you'll stay here?"

Winry wasn't sure how to answer. "You mean—forever? In my house? In Resembool? I don't think so."

"Oh. Just wondering."

"I want to go back to Rush Valley some time. There are a lot of people there who really wanted me to stay and keep making automail for them. I could even start my own business…it's what I always imagined doing, honestly."

Winry didn't really pay attention as Ed rolled onto his back again, looking a little deflated. His question, idle as it seemed, started her on a train of thought that kept her speaking.

She had never talked to Ed about her own plans. Up until now she had been so concerned with making sure he and Al were safe and stayed that way, she had barely thought about a life for herself—a normal life. More than just a normal life—a successful life, doing what she loved.

"I mean, obviously I'm not qualified yet, but where better than Rush Valley to finish my training? Garfiel would take me on again, I'm sure of it, and I could keep studying with Mr. Dominic—he's the best of the best, really, and if I could work under him, I might be able to come up with designs that are truly groundbreaking. And combining that with the northern alloy that your automail is made of…wow, there are some serious possibilities! Ed, do you know how much work I have to do? I'm going to start some design schematics tonight, once we get back—"

Winry sat up ramrod straight on the swing, alight with the sparkle of new work and a mechanical challenge, and Ed scrambled upright in no small alarm. He interrupted her excited monologue by grabbing one of the swing's ropes and twisting her around to face him.

"Hold on, Winry. Why haven't you mentioned any of this before now?" His eyebrows were tilted sharply upward in concern. "Have you asked anyone about this, or gotten any advice? Is this the first time you've thought about what you want to do? You should probably take a few days to think over your plans. I mean—what's so bad about staying here? Taking over Granny's business. You get plenty of customers, and everyone already trusts the Rockbell name."

Winry heard his voice slowly creeping up into a nervous register. She herself was slightly confused as to why he was opposing her new and brilliant life goals. _After all, why should I stay here in Resembool forever? It's not like he's ever felt any long-term ties._ Bitterness welled in her chest. _He's going to leave again. He just can't say anything about it._ But Ed was not done with his counterargument.

"Rush Valley can be dangerous Winry. I know you have some friends there, and it was a great experience for you—but for a _short_ time! Wouldn't you want to make your life and career here, where it's familiar, and safe, where people wouldn't worry—" He jerked to a stop, possibly because he might have been about to say something regrettable, but more reasonably because the young mechanic launched herself upright, going nose to nose with him and lancing spears from her dangerously narrowed eyes.

"Oh, what a _fantastic_ argument you make—Rush Valley, dangerous! Dangerous for me, a poor defenseless little maid. You complete _imbecile_ , you've had too many wrenches to the cranium to ever think I can't take care of myself. And you have the damn _nerve_ to talk about worry?! After what I have lived through? Worry has been the _only_ thing uppermost in my thoughts since you first started on this path to get your bodies back. And did you or Al ever listen to me? Did you even stay in contact? You have got to give this up, Ed, or at least develop a better argument, because you have no room to be talking about how _worried_ you'll be about me. It's not equivalent exchange—and that's probably the only way you'd ever understand it."

Winry backed down a little. Even she was a little surprised by her own tirade. _Well, the other shoe had to drop at some point._

She was still near enough to his face to see the unadulterated shock in Ed's golden eyes. The shock was quickly succeeded by defensiveness, and…guilt? No, that couldn't be right. Then his face closed off, like he shut an inner door. Instead of immediately retaliating in typical Ed fashion, he kept silent, which made Winry feel worse than irritated; she felt horribly lost. Their verbal sparring was something she counted on to remain the same forever, no matter how much either of them changed. If he was being quiet, he was still keeping something hidden.

She dropped back onto the swing, smoothing her hands restlessly over the fabric of her dress. The satin was so cool, it felt almost damp—like soft, pale tears. But Winry's eyes, so quick to well up at others' misfortunes, were dry now. She might be Ed's oldest friend, but she was obviously not someone he could talk to without concealment. And friendship without honesty was hardly worth the name.

Winry spoke softly into the tense silence.

"I can't stay here forever, Ed. You haven't. And I feel like I've always been leashed here, something always tugs me back even though I can't see a future here. But I think I might have the tools to cut that leash now. And no one can tell me when or if I can do it—that's my decision. Even you have to admit that's fair."

She heard his sharp intake of breath, and she even had a split second to wonder why what she said had struck a chord with him, when her sharp complaints earlier had just barricaded him away. But before she could look up to assess, Ed had dropped to his knees in front of her and tugged the swing forward with one hand. With the other, he cupped the back of her head to suddenly pull her lips to his.

* * *

It was a short kiss, and Ed's head was pounding with too much adrenaline to even make sense of which direction was up. He felt like the galaxy was whirling precariously, with only him, Winry, and the lone tree at the unmoving axis. _Am I actually drunk?_ tumbled through his consciousness, before being replaced by the overwhelming realization that he had just kissed his mechanic. At an insurmountably and grotesquely inappropriate moment, nonetheless.

Ed stared at Winry, bracing himself for the oncoming tempest, which he fully deserved. What in Truth's name had come over him? And what made _this_ the moment to kiss her, when a romantic date hadn't done the trick? The girl's wide eyes were locked on his, her expression unreadable. She lifted one hand to gently press her mouth, as if to make sure it was still there.

"Wh-what?" she faltered out, sounding exactly as confused as Ed still felt.

"Sorry! Oh Winry, I'm so sorry. I don't know—what the hell that was—I'm really sorry. Shit. I just…"

Ed tried to articulate the intense panic that had flooded his brain when Winry had first said the word, "leash." She felt trapped in Resembool because of _them_. The Elrics. They were what caged her in the house she had always grown up in, and it was because of them she had waited, alone, on the off chance that they would come back and need her help. It was his harebrained selfishness that had forced him to try and talk her into staying here, when she obviously had bigger and better plans for her life work. And kissing her was his regrettable strategy for convincing her that maybe she should keep waiting.

He swallowed—his throat was desert-dry—and tried to put together an explanation that would excuse his very impulsive actions. "Yes. You're right. It's your decision, and you'll be able to know best where you should go, and what to do when you get there. But someone—who might want to find you—might not always know where to look. Especially if that…person…hasn't always been the best with communication in the past. And maybe that person doesn't want you to feel leashed here, but he also…doesn't want you to move on completely, and make a life for yourself, without maybe…letting him know, so he could still be part of it."

Ed faded a little through the last few words, hoping that he hadn't just royally screwed any of his last chances. Winry still looked a bit dazed, but as he finished speaking, he thought the corners of her mouth curved up ever so slightly when eventual realization struck. Then her face grew stern, and he braced for impact.

"What about you, Ed?"

He stared blankly. That was not the expected response. "What?"

"I mean, will you stay here?"

He flinched. There it was. Beyond anything, he didn't want her to be hurt at his inevitable departure, whether it was to continue working in the military, or something else, faraway in the West. He could not tell her that he'd always be here, but it was hell to think that she'd be living her life in Rush Valley—or wherever she decided was right for her—growing even more beautiful…and forgetting him.

"No." Ed thought the word sounded cruel as it cut the evening air, but oddly, Winry's face softened when she heard it. "I can't. I still have obligations to the military—like Mustang is ever going to let me forget it—and even if I didn't, there's too much to still find out about alchemy, especially since Scar's brother's research came into the open. I would be falling down on the job if I just stopped now. I'm sorry."

And he looked down, certain that now Winry knew his plans, nebulous as they were, she would write him off forever. She'd always hated that he was with the military, and the knowledge that he was under Mustang's thumb even though Al was still getting his strength back would infuriate her. He heard her move slightly, and he waited for her to get up and leave him alone in the dark. But instead, her hand reached out and softly tipped his face up to again meet her eyes.

* * *

Winry saw in his face the anticipation that his words would drive her away. _He can be so stupid. What he's saying really can't be worse than what I've already survived._ She kept holding his chin steady, feeling soft stubble beneath her fingertips. "Then now we both know what to expect. No surprises."

The confusion in his expression prompted her to explain more.

"I don't like being stuck here, always waiting, but the waiting is so much worse when it's accompanied by secrecy. You've always known everything about me, Ed, but I haven't had the same knowledge about you. You can't expect me to always, _always_ wait with no reason given. Maybe now it's time for you to do some waiting of your own—we can each wait a little longer…for each other, if that's okay."

Winry felt heat creeping up her neck. This was as close as she'd ever gotten to telling Ed her feelings for him, and she had certainly never thought such sentiments would follow one of their arguments. She had also insinuated that he felt the same way about her—which, admittedly, she strongly suspected—but it just felt so presumptuous now that the words were out.

Ed stayed silent, and Winry found she couldn't look at him any more. Her hand fell away from his face as uncertainty closed around her. But as her hand dropped, she suddenly felt one of his catching it. Her eyes flew up to his face in surprise.

He was looking at her with a little incredulity, and something else that made her heart skitter unevenly. He brought her hand back up to his face, and for a wild second Winry thought he might actually kiss the back of it, which struck her as being hysterically out of character. Instead, he turned it over and briefly pressed his lips to her open palm. It was so sweet, and so wonderfully _Ed_ , that she couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry. Then he released her hand again and raised his head, the deep red color of his ears and cheeks apparent in the silver light.

"That's okay," he muttered, brushing away his bangs in obvious embarrassment.

Winry smiled at him as he returned to standing. He cleared his throat loudly and thrust his right hand in her direction. "You wanna go back now?"

"Sure." Winry slipped her fingers through his and got off the creaky swing. Their plans could wait for the next day, or week, or month. And both of them could keep waiting for each other a little bit longer. But Winry couldn't help wondering exactly why Ed had been so honest and open with her, when she usually had to work, argue, trick, and connive to find out anything about him at all.

 _Hmm. Maybe I should have tipped the waiter a bit more for bringing out that Aerugan red._


	2. Warm Ghosts in the Cold Night (Part 1)

Edward stared through the ceiling, his gaze alone enough to sear a hole through the planks. Even though the night was decidedly cool, he felt like the very sheets were melting against his body. He sweated and mumbled for hours before resigning himself to insomnia, lying plank-stiff on the mattress and willing his eyelids wide open, as if forcing himself awake would somehow trigger a reverse-psychology reaction and he would manage to find sleep.

 _Well, so much for getting a good night's rest before my 7 o'clock train._

Ed heard Alphonse breathing—slow, deep, and annoyingly relaxed—on the other side of the room. The brothers had always shared the same room in the Rockbell house, at first because Al had needed someone to keep constant watch over him as he recovered, and then later because it just became a habit. After all, where else would Ed stay? Convert the basement (or more accurately, Winry's workshop) into another room? Ed winced at the thought of trying to go to sleep while listening to the all-night hiss of the welding torch and the screech of metal tools on metallic parts. No, bunking with Al was a nicer prospect than that of bothering his mechanic, who seemed to pull all-nighters every other week. Especially in the last month or so. Recently, there was hardly a night Winry didn't spend in front of a half-finished automail limb, measuring and reworking it until morning light revealed the dark circles under her tired blue eyes.

Even Ed, the ever-emotionally-oblivious, had realized that Winry's behavior had been different ever since he and Al broached their plan to take their alchemy knowledge to the corners of the globe. Although, he had been surprised—blindsided was a better word—at her initial response to their proposal.

* * *

 _"I think you're onto something," she said after dinner, assessing the Elric brothers as they both sat in front of her like guilty children._

 _Ed saw Al's head jerk towards him, and barely restrained a similar movement. Had they just heard correctly?_

 _Winry kept talking. "Neither of you is ever going to relax until you know all there is about every branch of alchemy. Let me guess, Al, you're going to Xing? You keep leaving stacks of alkahestry books on the dining table, by the way—that's why Granny and I put up that extra bookshelf. It only makes sense you'd want to work with May again, given her expertise."_

 _Ed snorted at Al's red visage, and elbowed him hard under the table._

 _"And you, Ed."_

 _He obediently focused on Winry again._

 _"I think you'd really be an asset if you went to the far West. Your name is still really respected in the alchemical community, yes? You were the youngest state alchemist in history—that's got to impress anyone, even if they aren't Amestrian. You have a unique opportunity to find out all that you can and make the best use of it. In fact, I'd even call it your responsibility."_

 _She watched him earnestly for his reaction, and Ed only hoped that he looked as important as she had just painted him._

 _Her words struck something behind his chest. Until now, Ed's motivations had been rather selfish. His lack of transmutation had fueled his studies with an unquenchable fire, and all he really wanted was to find out everything the science had to offer, even if he could no longer utilize it. He wanted to add to his own collection—it hadn't dawned on him that his raw knowledge, coupled with practical ability, could be used to educate the world. Leave it to Winry to expect—or rather demand—the best and noblest from him._

* * *

Since then, she'd been nothing but supportive of their plans, always offering her help and encouragement as they arranged for transportation, made frequent and voluble calls to Mustang's office (their studies would be funded by the military, mostly thanks to the newly promoted general), and decided which items would travel with them to the farthest corners of Xing and Creta. But though she was nothing but helpful, something odd now followed Winry around the house. She buzzed with an unnatural, frenetic energy, working tirelessly on small-time orders at all hours, making 5 a.m. calls to Rush Valley suppliers ordering new parts, and arguing with her grandmother over what exactly an "insanely overtaxing workload" was. Just this evening, Ed had witnessed Pinako force a gallon of chamomile tea into her granddaughter and push the complaining girl into bed, saying she'd lock Winry out of the tool chest if she didn't sleep at least eight solid hours.

Also, Ed noted with irritation, Winry had recently developed an alarming penchant for tweaking his automail in the _most_ painful way possible during run-of-the-mill examinations. Maybe her sleep deprivation and bizarre emotional state was leading her to put him through what he thought of now as "rough-ups" rather than "tune-ups," which always left his nerve ends frayed.

 _Speaking of which…_

Maybe he'd shifted a little too restlessly, or gone too long without oiling the damn thing properly. Maintenance was just so much work, and he hadn't had time in the last couple weeks to take proper care. Either way, even Ed had to admit that setting out on a presumably lengthy trip without having his leg looked at by a professional was a rash idea. And the nearest available professional was…

"Uuunnghhh," Ed rolled over and dropped gracelessly onto the floor, landing heavily on his right leg so Al wouldn't be woken by metal clanking wood. The older brother stepped to the door and quietly moved it open, slipping through and shutting it again.

He couldn't wake Winry up at—what was it, 2:30 a.m.? She'd probably dismember him—but at least he could make some tea, distract himself from the discomfort of his leg, and hope that sleep would come after he stopped working so desperately to chase it.

Ed finally felt the dead chill of the air when he was in the hallway, and almost went back into the bedroom to throw on a shirt, but decided against it. After sweating liters for hours, he nearly welcomed the goose bumps on his flesh. He made his way through the upstairs hallway, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. The room was flooded with cold moonlight—all except for the corner of the room where the table was, which was still in deep shadow. The light was so pervasive that Ed didn't bother switching on the electricity, instead walking straight over to the stove to heat the kettle. To his amazement, steam was already climbing out of the pipe. _What the…?_

"Ed?"

He slammed his fist onto the kettle lid, yelping in pain and surprise as someone spoke his name from the darkened corner. He snatched his hand off the scalding surface, stringing curses together creatively, and stumbled over to the sink to run his hand under the freezing water. As the pain in his hand decreased, Ed looked over towards the dark corner, where he could faintly see a white figure rise from a chair.

"…Winry? Is that you? What the hell—why are you sitting down here alone in the middle of the night? And why didn't you turn any lights on?"

She stepped over towards him, and Ed could now see she had wrapped herself in a quilt, her thin nightgown evidently not enough protection from the brisk air. The moonlight played with the highlights in her long loose hair, and made her skin look nearly translucent.

Ed watched her finally stop in front him, her bare feet noiseless, and he felt vaguely uneasy. She looked more ghost than girl, and he couldn't think of any reasons—any _good_ reasons—why she would sit silent and alone in the dead hours.

"Is your hand okay?" She didn't answer his line of questioning, and pulled his hand out from under the jet of water to look at it closely.

"Yeah, it's fine now. But what are you doing down here? Granny said she'd ban you from the automail workshop if you didn't get some rest."

Winry dropped his hand after her examination and walked back to grab something from the tabletop.

"Yes, but I couldn't stay asleep for long. So I made more tea." She held up a full cup in explanation.

"Oh. That was sort of my plan, too." Ed didn't really want to mention his leg trouble now that his mechanic was present. Also, Winry didn't seem in any kind of shape to give attention to his automail. He turned back to the stove, grabbed the first cup he saw on the countertop, and poured some tea of his own. Then he made his way to the table to sit down next to the quiet, pale girl. His eyes had adjusted so well to the half-light that none of the shadows remained. He could see every freckle on Winry's face as clearly as if the sun shone down on them.

She rubbed her hands up and down the sides of her teacup, but didn't seem to have any interest in drinking it. Ed watched as her eyebrows knit together, drawing her face into a mask of anxiety.

"Something wrong?" he asked, mostly to break the taut silence that stretched between them.

 _This is really weird. Well, it's already been weird, but sitting down here in the middle of the night drinking tea with her is beyond strange._

"Of course not." She fixed him with a glare, sounding a lot more like the old Winry.

"I just wanted a change of scenery to help relax. So…mission accomplished. I guess I'd better head up now."

She pushed her chair back sharply, clutching her quilt around her as she stood up. Her teacup sat forgotten.

"Hold on!" Ed exclaimed. "You haven't even tried this!" He indignantly scooted the cup toward her.

"Chamomile has never sat well with me anyway." She plucked the cup from him and walked back over to the sink to empty the lukewarm liquid down the drain. "Good night Ed. Guess I'll see you early tomorrow, so you should try and go to sleep too." Winry didn't look at him again as she moved towards the staircase, her head bent so that hair fell over the only side of her face he could see. Something twisted sharply in his stomach, and Ed nearly knocked his chair over in his rush to move in front of her, blocking her from the doorway.

"Winry!"

Obviously caught unawares, her trick of avoiding his eyes finally failed. She stared up into his face, eyes wide and her shocked expression as fragile as porcelain. Ed was a little anxious to force the issue, but he couldn't just leave the next morning without solving this mystery.

"Why are you acting so strangely? Is something the matter? Dammit, you can't just take off like that without some sort of explanation. _What_ is going on?"

She set her mouth in a hard line, and for a split second Ed thought she was going to push right past him and rush upstairs. Then he thought he saw something behind her eyes snap; something holding her hard shell together fell away into the empty night. He saw fear, anger, pride, and vulnerability flash across her face before she locked her hands behind his neck, letting the quilt flutter to the ground, and pushed her mouth against his in a fierce kiss.


	3. Warm Ghosts in the Cold Night (Part 2)

There was so much force behind Winry's kiss that Ed's head knocked sharply against the wooden wall, but there was no opportunity for him to register the pain. Shock froze his limbs and snapped his eyes wide open against her onslaught, but he didn't move either to respond or pull back. Before he could fully process the implications of what was happening, he felt Winry's tongue swipe insistently across his lips, and his surprise suddenly found voice.

"Wha—"

His exclamation cut off as Winry pressed herself firmly against him, rising on her tiptoes and invading his open mouth with her tongue. Ed's logical thinking quickly slipped to the very back of his brain, replaced at the forefront with vivid awareness of Winry's thinly-clad self molded to his bare chest. He tried to get words out again—although he really didn't know what they were going to end up being—but rather than forming coherent syllables he groaned deeply into her mouth. Winry responded with a soft noise of approval, and tugged on his lower lip with her teeth. Ed's eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Now far from pushing her away, he pulled her still closer, one arm wrapping around her waist and the other hopelessly tangled in her long, soft hair.

After several intense seconds, Winry's hands loosened their hold on his neck and she dropped from her tiptoes, ending what Ed thought might have been the most ecstatic few moments of his entire life. His eyelids fluttered open, and he looked down to see her face, which wore an expression that looked almost as surprised as he still felt. She had her mouth covered with one hand, and when she brought her gaze up to meet his, her eyes grew even rounder and she let out a distressed squeak. She stepped back, causing Ed's arms to fall from around her, and pressed both hands over her mouth as her panic threatened to spill over.

"Oh no."

Those two words brought Ed down from the high he was still contentedly riding and forced him back into reality—which, coincidentally, now felt a lot more chilly than it had before Winry kissed him.

Winry seemed to have only one train of thought: "oh no, oh no, oh no," spilled from her mouth until Ed's state of mind moved from indescribable euphoria into moderate annoyance.

"What was so _'oh no'_ about that?" he queried sharply.

"Oh Ed, I didn't mean to—I guess I'm just so tired and stressed that I just—oh _damn_ —I'm such an idiot—ohhh, nooo…" and she trailed off as her hurried excuses were obviously having a negative effect on the irritated former alchemist.

"You didn't _mean_ to?" The stupidity of her reasoning obviously registered, and Winry's face cycled through several shades of pink to a rest at deep maroon. "That was one _hell_ of an accident, then." Ed's face tightened, brows furrowed over his golden eyes.

Winry moved her hands up from her mouth to cover her entire face, and her shoulders collapsed inwards. She looked small and defeated, like a breath of night wind might carry her off. Ed didn't move towards her, mostly because her words had caused his heart to plummet somewhere near the dead center of the earth. He felt like his soul had left him after their kiss, and might still be wandering the room in search of his heated body.

Winry hunched over holding herself, and stood motionless for several seconds. Then, Ed noticed with alarm, she began shivering, then gradually began shaking with more and more violence. _Oh shit, is she crying?_ The knot that clutched his gut twisted again, and he almost stepped towards her to try and do some damage control before he heard a hysterical giggle escape her throat. Winry was _laughing_.

It wasn't a mirthful, musical laugh like her usual one, but instead a high-pitched, nervous titter that seemed like it was wrung from her body. Her laughter caught Ed off guard, and he almost thought it would be preferable to have her crying instead.

"Win-Winry?"

She was trying to get control of herself enough to speak, and finally she was able to choke out a sentence between spasms of hysteria.

"If—if I could have—just made it—until tomorrow!"

She was still bent slightly forward, grasping her middle as if trying to hold herself together, but slowly straightened up and wiped her eyes, which were leaking from the force of her giggles. She regained her composure rather quickly. Ed was still very much in the dark about her vague explanatory statement.

"Made what? And what about tomorrow?"

She fixed her gaze on him, serious on all fronts, and Ed saw her trying to formulate something he would understand. He hoped he would be able to process it, given the current dodgy state of his intellect.

"I almost did it. I almost watched you leave again without doing something idiotic. And I would have succeeded, if you hadn't messed it up just now by coming down here." She smiled at him—a beautiful smile, but it looked a little bit like the wavering reflection of someone's smiling face in a bowl of water. "So if you wanted to know why I've been such a head case recently, I guess that's why. It's all been a big distraction for myself."

"Really? I thought you were just having a bad time of the month!" Ed wanted to swallow the words right back down as his own teacup sailed towards him. He caught the little porcelain cup as it flew past his left ear. Winry hadn't really heaved it with that much force; it was more the principle of the thing. And there were no wrenches nearby, Ed noted with fervent approval.

"Jackass. Who says something like that to the girl who just kissed you?"

"Your words, not mine—'jackass' has me about pegged."

Winry took the teacup back from him and walked over to put it in the sink, then came back to pick up her discarded quilt and wrap herself in it again.

"So, besides laying claim to your rightful title, is there anything else you want to know? Now that I'm apparently self-disclosing with abandon?"

Ed stared down at his feet. There were lots of things he was curious about, most importantly why she had assaulted him— _not_ that he complained—but he opted to begin with the least dangerous. Although "dangerous," in this context, was relative.

"What makes this time any different? Me—us, I mean, leaving? I mean, you know we have to come back at some point." Winry's mouth twitched. "You do know that, right Winry?"

She nodded. "It is good to hear it, though." She sighed heavily. "I can't really tell you what's different…or at least, it's hard to explain what's different. I know I said you and Al _should_ go. I meant it, and I still mean it. But to me it just feels a little less imperative this time. Al has his body. You have your arm. And everything—almost everything—is exactly, _exactly_ perfect. And I am silly and young enough to want that forever."

Ed kept staring at his toenails. All five of them.

"What would make it easier?"

He read surprise into Winry's silence. He wasn't exactly known for being the most sensitive and empathetic soul, so he knew this question was unexpected. He already had a half-formed idea of what he could do to make his departure less of a reoccurring injury, and was prepared to act on it immediately.

"Well…it certainly wouldn't kill you to write more often. I think Al will stay in touch, but I'll probably have to go through General Mustang to find out if you're dead or alive—" she cringed at the unfortunate cliché, "—I mean, if you're still within communication range." She tapped her chin with the finger of the one hand that wasn't holding up the quilt, still in thought. Then, her reverie broke and she stared as Ed stepped forward, trapping her hand against her face with one of his own.

"Last question. Why did you think kissing me would help either of us resolve anything?"

Winry's eyes focused somewhere on the floorboards as a fevered pink crept back into her cheeks.

"Well, _Edward_ , I figured I'd borrow a leaf from your book and just let my first stupid impulse take control." Even though she was blushing furiously, her eyes flashed up to his with a bewitchingly mischievous glint. Ed paused, taken aback, then snorted in laughter.

"In that case, it was a very well-thought-out ploy, and you picked the right person to emulate." He leaned toward her lips, holding one hand steady against her face to keep her from moving away from him.

He intended it to be a soft, sweet kiss, one that would reassure her that even though he could be oafish and stupid, she was the only person who would define "home" for him. He intended it that way. But when Winry's mouth opened for him, and when her hand slipped out from under his to creep up his neck and into his hair, his intentions fell to the wayside with alarming speed.

Ed's hands wandered down Winry's back and across her ribs—the quilt was gone again, and it had probably picked up most of the dust on the floor by now—pulling her fully against his body as her hands tightened in his loose hair and tugged his head down to deepen the kiss. He felt the warmth of her skin through the airy cotton nightgown, and he stroked his thumbs across her ribs with feather-light touches; in response she hummed approval against his tongue. Somewhere in a negligible recess of his mind, Ed came to the conclusion that he had at some point turned them around, and it was now Winry who was against the wall. And—oh Truth—she had somehow hitched one leg around his hip, and her hands were floating so softly down the planes of his chest, making his skin jump, down farther towards his abdomen—oh, she needed to stop that soon. But he couldn't keep himself from tasting her lips—chamomile and honey—and from feeling her gasp when he drew one finger up her sensitive spine. Winry's business-oriented hands were dangerously close to disrobing Ed completely when he tore himself away from her mouth, hearing his heart rate thunder in his ears and Winry's small whine of protest.

"I think that's probably enough," he managed, hoping his voice wasn't too choked and ridiculous.

Winry frowned, but nodded as she replaced one of the nightdress's straps on her shoulder from where it had slipped a little down her arm.

 _Did I do that? That was close…_ Ed got a little distracted thinking of the trajectory the night could have taken. _Someday. We've still got waiting to do._

He felt her lean forward against him, tucking her head under his chin where it now fit rather perfectly. He rested his arms around her, letting his silence speak for him. Maybe now he could convince her that someday things would be, in her words, "exactly, _exactly_ perfect." And even though they both knew he had to get on a train at an ungodly hour the next morning, sharing each other's warmth in the cold night was more of a gift than a full day of uninterrupted sleep.


	4. Pockets

Winry woke up too late. It was already half past six when she finally dragged her eyes open from heavy, much-needed slumber. Only to realize her alarm had been shrieking at her for fifteen minutes.

 _Oh NO! Ed's train!_

She propelled herself out of bed as if the sheets were filled with pins. Yanking the first clothes she saw out of her closet, she stumbled into them, ran her fingers roughly through her hair, and flung herself out the bedroom door, only to nearly collide with the former alchemist in the hallway. She stumbled back from him with a startled squeak, but couldn't help noticing that Ed looked remarkably refreshed and awake after so short a night.

"AH! You haven't left yet! Oh, I was so worried…" Winry's words trailed off as she noticed the growing smirk on his face.

"You're awfully concerned about being awake to see me off," he expressed in a more-than-suggestive tone.

"Well—you haven't—it's just that— _your leg!_ " She clutched at the excuse as if to a lifeline. "You haven't let me look at it in a while, and you at least need me to tell you how to take care of it— _properly—_ before you leave for who knows how long!"

She saw something flash across his face, and she couldn't decide if it was disappointment or apprehension. She could read his features like a book—well, at least in most cases. _Is something up with his leg again, and he's just too chicken to let me get ahold of it?_

Winry almost considered forcing him to miss his train just so she could get him into her workshop, but he might misconstrue that as her trying to coerce him into staying longer. Her cheeks heated up, especially as memories of the night before flooded her mind. She had passed out as soon as she hit the pillow after their 2 a.m.… _exchange…_ and she still hadn't totally processed the events.

 _Are we just going to pretend that didn't happen?_

They hadn't had any conversation until they finally released each other and quietly went to their beds, with only a murmured, "good night," to mark the separation.

Now, in the chilly morning light, he was rubbing the back of his neck—like he always did when he was nervous—and looking a little bit sick, like the words he was trying to force out were physically choking him.

"Winry—do you—doyouwannawalkwithmetothestation? I mean. Just to tell me all that.

"Oh, yeah!" Winry enthused with a little too much pep. "That's perfect! I just need to put on some shoes." And she promptly walked back into her room, closing the door on him. _Yikes. Get it together, gearhead._

In ten minutes, Winry and Edward were out the door, treading the familiar path to the train station. Al and Pinako had said their goodbyes at the house. Both of them wore indulgent smiles on their faces, even though Winry loudly declared her resolve to acquaint Ed, _yet again_ , with the finer points of automail maintenance, and if he wasn't receptive, to acquaint him with the finer points of her largest wrench.

"Whatever works best, Winry!" Al chirped too innocently, prompting her to consider him as the next potential target.

As the yellow house shrank behind them, Winry's nerves calmed, but there was soon another reason for worry. The morning was absolutely frigid, and the wind was knifing straight through her thin summer dress—the first article of decent clothing that had touched her fingers when she reached into her closet. Cursing herself for not remembering to throw on some sort of covering at the house, Winry tried to keep her teeth from chattering audibly. However, before she had to work too hard to conceal her discomfort, something soft and white was thrust into her arms.

"I didn't think you had time to grab something to keep warm, so I brought this along just in case."

Winry unfolded the fabric and immediately recognized Ed's white hooded jacket—the one he wore when he and Alphonse had returned home to her. Smiling, she pushed her cold arms through the sleeves and appreciated the instant relief from the sharp breeze.

"Thanks Ed. That was considerate of you." Glancing through her bangs, she saw his head dip and his ears turn red. _That sweet idiot_. Without thinking, she reached out and squeezed his fingers briefly. His head snapped up and he looked over at her, but she only grinned at him and dropped his hand. Then she launched into her familiar tutorial on all the things he'd have to do to keep his automail functional while traveling.

"Now the first thing you'll have to do is find the right kind of oil—and your automail is different, remember. It's the special alloy they use at Briggs, so you can't just walk into any store and buy the first oilcan you see—they have a place that sells the right stuff in Central, I'll write down the address for you when you stop there…"

* * *

 _Equivalent exchange—did he expect me to take that seriously? And why was he so offended by having to make an appointment? And—oh, oh no—I said EIGHTY-FIVE PERCENT. Who in the world quantifies their relationship like that?_

After the giddiness of the train station deserted her about halfway back to the Rockbell house, Winry was tempted to beat herself over the head with her own wrench after analyzing—and over-analyzing—the conversation that had just transpired.

 _Why couldn't I have just said, "I love you," instead of acting like a complete basket case? For that matter—why couldn't_ he _have just said, "I love you"?_

She froze mid-step, working to simultaneously fight and feed her growing annoyance and embarrassment. She knew Ed was not the most articulate individual, and that his "equivalent exchange" metaphor was probably the closest he could manage to a proper declaration. _Still!_

And now it occurred to her that she had absolutely no idea what the two of them had just agreed on. Were they "together?" Should she tell her friends to save a date? Was he just expressing a deep desire to be her only automail client who didn't need to call ahead?

Winry almost sat right down in the middle of the road. She wasn't sure she could go back to her house, to face her grandmother and Al, only to tell them that the vaguest conversation _ever_ had left her more confused than certain. Instead, she hunched her shoulders and buried her fisted hands into the pockets of the white jacket. Her knuckles brushed something inside the right pocket, and she pulled it out.

 _Did he forget something?_

It was a small piece of paper—an old picture, to be exact. Winry glanced at it with instant recognition, remembering Pinako secretly snapping the shot and showing it to her after having it developed. It had been one of the "rejects"—that is, it hadn't gone up on the wall along with all the favorites—but she knew it had been kept safe in a drawer because of what it documented. Edward was walking on his automail leg for the very first time. His face was contorted with a mixture of pain and deadly concentration, but he was moving forward again. And beside him, arm linked protectively around his shoulders, was Winry. She vividly remembered how fierce he had been about walking on his own, and he had almost refused her help—especially since she was slightly taller than him—but he finally gave in and allowed her to help steady his first steps.

Neither Pinako nor Winry decided to show Ed the picture; they thought they were correct in assuming that he didn't want anything by which to remember those difficult moments. But he must have found it sometime in the last two years, and decided to hang onto it. Winry shoved a sleeve across her eyes to ease the telltale stinging. _Don't be stupid. It's just a picture_. After looking at it for a few more seconds, she folded it in half to put back in the jacket pocket. She stopped when she saw script on the back of it. Opening it up again, she read the brief note penned on the blank side.

 _ **Winry,**_

 _ **I've been meaning to bring this up for a while, but this kind of thing is honestly more frightening than my worst battle with a homunculus, so this is my safety net in case I just run out of courage or say something dumb.**_

 _ **You've always done this for me—helped me keep moving forward—and I seem to do it best when you're there next to me. So think of this as a bookmark, I guess—or a placeholder—until I can get back, and we can keep going. I'll miss you, automail junkie, and I'll be back sooner than you think.**_

 _ **Ed**_

A salty drop landed on the capital "E" on the last line, and Winry suddenly giggled as she remembered the "only happy tears" promise Ed had made to her. He was doing a remarkably good job of holding up that promise, even when he wasn't physically present.

Noticing the dust cloud from an approaching wagon in the distance, Winry suddenly realized she had been standing in the middle of the road for the last five minutes, staring at an old picture with a stupid grin plastered on her face. She started walking again, but kept the piece of paper clasped gently in both her hands. She looked at the golden-haired boy in the photo once more before slipping it safely back into the jacket pocket.

 _I'll miss you too, alchemy freak. Don't make either of us wait too much longer._


End file.
